


all the lives we've lived

by honeycombkiss



Series: among our every day life [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I love Bucky, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: Bucky waits a moment before asking, “One hundred, right?”“Yeah,” Steve squeezes his hand.“I still feel twenty-something,” Steve says, stealing the spoon from Bucky.“I don’t,” Bucky sighs, running a hand across his face. “A hundred feels about right.”orSteve and Bucky celebrate Bucky's 100th Birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky Barnes is my very favorite hero, because he saved himself. To celebrate his very special 100th birthday, I threw this together in about a week. Thank you for reading. If you have a moment, please let me know what you thought.

Some mornings, Bucky wakes up exhausted. Whether he’s slept three hours or eight, his body feels heavy. In the beginning, this happened every morning. His limbs too heavy to lift, his brain too foggy to think, and his heart aching for something he couldn’t name. Now, more often than not, Bucky wakes up slowly and peacefully. His eyes adjusting to the sunlight, brain slipping away from dreaming, heart content. On March 10, 2017, Bucky awakes to soft lips pressing against his forehead. Which is the first thing he notices. Second, he tenses, waiting for his memory to fill in the gaps. (He’s just waking up; He’s in his and Steve’s bed; He’s in their Brooklyn apartment; He’s safe) Steve presses another kiss, this time against his jawline. It’s warm and soft and makes Bucky’s heart flutter.

He doesn’t stop Steve as he continues pressing kisses against his sleep-warm skin. There’s one placed at the crook of his neck, two against his collarbone, another placed on his shoulder. Steve’s slow, taking time on each expanse of skin. Lips trailing up and down, hot breath tickling Bucky’s skin. It’s enough to stir the rest of his body awake.

Steve moves farther down Bucky’s body, each kiss feeling more deliberate than before. Bucky’s hands find their way into Steve’s hair; fingers running slowly through, tugging when Steve licks against his abdomen.

Bucky can’t see Steve’s face since he slipped beneath the blanket. But he can feel every single move of Steve’s body. There’s a hand running up and down his chest, another hand firmly placed against his left hip. Steve’s nose brushes his skin first, right before Steve kisses him. The kisses are slow now.

Slow, hot, and followed by a nip. Bucky absolutely cannot help the buck of his hips when Steve bits his hipbone. Which is followed by a trail of love bites from right to left hipbone. Bucky sensed Steve’s deliberate avoidance of his hardening cock.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before Steve’s kissing the tip. It’s slow and sensual. There’s another kiss, and then Steve’s licking a stripe from the base back up to the tip. Bucky can’t stay still; running his hands through Steve’s hair, bucking his hips up, grabbing the sheets in a fist.

Steve continues his slow, deliberate kisses and licks. He doesn’t lay a hand on him, using only his mouth. Bucky grunts and moans.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts when Steve puts the entire tip in his mouth. Everything had still felt sleep hazy until that moment. Slowly, gradually, he slides farther down, taking more and more of Bucky into his mouth. Steve works his entire length into his mouth, hand finally reaching up to fondle his balls. Bucky’s moans are louder now.

Steve looks up at him through his eyelashes, red lips wrapped around his cock, and Bucky groans, “Steve, fuck,”

Steve grows quicker and quicker. He hollows out his cheeks, Bucky’s dick popping out of his mouth. Steve takes the moment to lean down and suck gently on his balls. It lasts only a second, and then he’s fisting the base of Bucky’s cock, once more sucking the tip.

Although Steve’s paying careful attention to Bucky’s cock, Bucky can see Steve grinding his hips down onto their mattress. Somehow, it only adds to Bucky’s pleasure.

“Stevie, god, I,” This only encourages Steve.

Bucky can’t last long first thing in the morning, which is something Steve knows fully. He didn’t have much left in him.

Steve sucks Bucky completely, his nose brushing against Bucky’s abdomen. Steve barely reacts, which is new to this century. Bucky’s mind short-circuits in the best way possible, and it takes only seconds before his comes in Steve’s mouth. There’s no warning, just a load groan and a, “Steve!”

He lays in bliss, his body completely still. Steve’s looking up in him in adoration, love written across every part of his face.

“Stevie, baby,” Bucky makes grabby hands, gesturing for Steve to come up to him.

Steve crawls up his body, until their noses are brushing, and Steve’s own hard-on is pressed against Bucky’s stomach. Steve leans down to kiss Bucky once, twice, and then a third. Bucky, obscenely, slicks his hand with spit, and reaches between them.

It doesn’t take more than a minute or two, before Steve’s coming onto their stomach’s. He whispers sweetly in Bucky’s ear, cuddling into the crook of his neck.

X

Several blocks from their building, the diner sits on a corner, large windows covering the whole front side. People call the place nostalgic, and a remnant of America’s past. Although, to Bucky and Steve, the place is part of a future they never experienced. They walk the distance hand-in- hand, neither saying a word. They don’t need to.

The bell above the door chimes when they enter, and the host points to a table in the front. The booths are blue and red, and Bucky always teases Steve when they sit down. Today is no different. The sunshine streams in, casting shadows of the blinds against their table. The menus are sticky with syrup, and the table has a pile of salt in the corner.

“What’re you getting?” Steve asks, as per usual. Bucky laughs.

“Why, so you can copy?”

“No! I just like knowing what you’re getting,”

“So you can you copy,” Bucky says again, and Steve fixes him with a half-smile/half- glare. Bucky really can’t say no to Steve.

“I’m probably gonna get a stack of French toast, with sides of eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and sausage. I also want a muffin, and a bowl of fruit” Steve nodded, looking back down at the menu in his grasps. “Imagine if we’d had this food back then,” Bucky doesn’t have to specify, Steve just looks up and smiles.

“Couldn’t’ve afforded it anyway,”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “It could’ve lasted us weeks, though.”

“We do eat a lot more this century, huh?”

“Super soldier serum and all that,”

They order coffee first, and Bucky pours three sugar packs into the porcelain cup. Steve drinks his black. Their hands meet across the table, tangling fingers in the middle. Bucky uses his other hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, trying his best to a hide a smile. Sometimes, the feeling in his chest is overwhelming. He’s been assured it’s okay, that it’s normal. (Butterflies, they’d said. Sometimes falling in love felt like butterflies in your stomach. Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard the phrase before. Which was why it was on the list of things to ask Steve. That list was exceedingly long.) Steve doesn’t say anything about the suddenly huge smile that lights up Bucky’s face. Instead, he smiles back, squeezing Bucky’s hand.

When their food is brought out, neither speaks again. They eat quickly. It’s what they do now, and not because they’re in a rush.

As they’re finishing up, Steve waves down their waiter.

“Hey, it’s his birthday,” Steve says, pointing at Bucky. “I’ve been told you do something special?”

The waiter turns her smile to Bucky.

“Happy Birthday!” She claps her hands together. “Would you like a chocolate or vanilla sundae?”

“Chocolate,” Bucky says, looking from the waiter to Steve. “Thank you,”

Minutes later, their waiter comes back, two other waiters beside her. They sing ‘Happy Birthday’ off tune, and cheer when they finish.

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles, a blush brushing his cheeks. “This is so nice.”

“Doing anything special?” One waiter asks.

“I’ve got a couple surprises planned,” Steve answers.

“What a sweet boyfriend!”

“He is,” Bucky agrees, eyes turning soft.

“Let me guess,” the other waiter says. “I’m guessing 26,” Bucky must make a face, as she quickly backtracks. “25? 27?! I’m sorry, there’s no way you’re older than 28!”

“Haven’t really kept count,” Bucky says. There’s something really amazing about people who don’t know who he is. Once Steve is recognized, it usually doesn’t take long for them to associate Bucky with the stories they’ve read. Sometimes, though, they meet people who don’t recognize their faces.

“Now that’s a good idea,”

“Let me know if I can get you anything else,” their waiter tells them, before they’re left alone again.

Bucky waits a moment before asking, “One hundred, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve squeezes his hand.

For a moment, Bucky can feel his chest tighten. He has lived so many years, and he doesn’t even remember half of them. Growing up, he’d been terrified of dying. (Who would’ve cared for Steve? Who would play make-believe with his sisters?) After Azzano, he knew there were worse things in life than dying. Since then, death seems nearly impossible.

“I still feel twenty-something,” Steve says, stealing the spoon from Bucky.

“I don’t,” Bucky sighs, running a hand across his face. “A hundred feels about right.”

X

Spring is spreading through the city. Winter’s harsh colds are gone, leaving spring to renew every corner of their beloved city. Flowers blooming, baby ducks follow their mother, trees blossom, and the breeze is anything but chilling. Bucky thinks he might like spring best of a

“You used to say the same thing,” Steve tells him when he voices his newest discovery. “Not too hot, not too cold. Except in Europe,” Steve winces only slightly. “It was too muddy there; summer was better,”

There’s a spark in Bucky’s mind, possibly a memory. Having memories still feels so new.

They continue their walk, hand in hand, and end up in the park they frequent. When Bucky spots an empty bench, he pulls Steve along. They sit together, neither saying a word.

The sunshine streams down on them, pressing gentle rays against their exposed skin. It’s warm and comforting. Bucky can hear birds chirping off in the distance, and blossoms swaying in the wind.

Bucky peeks at Steve from the corner of his eye when he hears a rustle.

“You brought a sketchbook?”

“It’s just a small one,” Steve looks sheepish. “You don’t mind if-”

“Go ahead, pal,”

Within moments Steve’s making broad strokes up and down the sketchpad. Bucky goes to people-watching.

Sometimes, having this simple life is okay. It’s more than he could’ve ever dreamed of having a century ago. He’s more than content. And when he’s able to forget the dull ache that follows him everywhere, he’s happy. Which is a miracle.

Having Steve beside him like this is calming. It’s quiet, and it’s peaceful. And he’s still trying to convince himself he deserves it.

“How’s it look?” Steve breaks the silence, sliding his sketchbook into Bucky’s lap; something he never would’ve done before.

There’s a tree, big and grand, trunk thick and detailed. It’s blossoming much like the trees around them. At the base of it, Steve’s sketched the two of them; Steve’s back against the trunk, Bucky nestled between his widespread legs.

“I love it,” Bucky answers truthfully. The details amaze, Bucky. The bark looks life-like, and the features drawn onto their faces are familiar.

“Yeah?” Steve lights up, as if Bucky would’ve thought differently.

“You’ll pin it up when we get home?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve’s voice goes soft. It does that a lot this century. Bucky’s continually grateful he remembers details so miniscule. They remind him that he really did know Steve before. The life they’d shared had happened. This proof felt tangible.

“What’s next?” Bucky asks when things go quiet again.

“Next?”

“I know you’ve got something up your sleeve, Stevie,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re forgetting how good I can read you.”

“It’s probably about time to head home,” Steve says.

“Home?”

“Yep. Your next surprise has already been delivered. We have to make one stop, though,”

X

The one stop just happened to be the most cliche stop they could’ve made.

Lila’s Floral had long glass windows, flowers growing in the window boxes, and a chalk board sign sitting out front. Steve pulled Bucky inside by the hand, the florist meeting them at the door.

“Welcome!”

“Hey, thanks,” Steve shook her hand.

“What can I help you find today?”

“Mind if we have a look around?”

“Of course! Holler if you need assistance,”

The pair ventured farther in, the scent getting stronger. Bucky had to admit, the place was lovely. Rows and rows of bouquets, shelves of vases, and a little stand of greeting cards filled the tiny building.

“Which is your favorite?” Steve asked him suddenly, stopping them beside a wooden table with potted succulents.

“Huh?”

“Which flower is your favorite?”

Bucky looked around the shop helplessly. There were more kinds than he knew names for. Every color of the rainbow was represented.

“I like the white ones over there,” Bucky pointed out. “And maybe those blue ones. Roses are always good.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand once more, tugging him over to the counter.

“You guys ready?!” The happy florist stood on the other side of the counter, fixing the flower crown atop her head.

“We’d like a bouquet,”

“Alright! We can build you a custom one, or you can choose from our house favorites.”

“We’ll build our own,” Steve smiled over at Bucky as he spoke. “It’s this guy's birthday.”

“Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiled.

“What a thoughtful gift!”

“Yeah, he’s something else,” Bucky said, and he meant it. Steve was so uniquely his own, and Bucky was completely smitten.

“Alright, what’s gonna be in your perfect bouquet?”

“Those white ones,” Bucky pointed out the ones he’d spotted earlier.

“Daisies,” the florist wrote quickly onto a notepad.

“Those blues over there, and then those,”

“Hydrangea, and hyacinths,”

“The purple against the wall,”

“Lilac,”

“And then the white ones back there,”

“Chrysanthemum,”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky said. “Thank you,”

“My pleasure! Let me just get that for you. It’ll be at least an hour.”

“Do you deliver?” Steve asked.

X

True to his word, Steve had a surprise waiting on their couch. Pressed inside formal plastic garment bags, lay two new suits. Suspicious, Bucky waited for Steve to make the first move. Steve could sense Bucky’s unease--and really, Steve knew Bucky better than anyone ought to know another person--and pulled back the plastic cover.

“This one’s yours,” Steve told him. It was fine-pressed, and obviously unworn. Yet, it felt somehow familiar. “I had it custom made,” Steve’s voice trailed off.

“Custom made?” Bucky gave a shocked expression.

“Yeah, it’s uh,” Steve’s face went from nervous to fear. “It’s not too much, right? I mean, you don’t have to wear it, I-”

“Steve, it’s okay,”

“It’s nearly identical to this one you had, Buck. You loved it. Every Friday night you’d wear it out,”

“I remember,”

“Yeah?” Bucky had to look away; Steve’s face had gone so bright, so fond.

“We went out a lot,” Bucky says, “And all you wanted to do was stay in,”

“That’s not entirely true,” Steve defends. “I liked going out, liked watching you dance,”

“Did I know that back then?”

“Yeah,” Steve blushes. “I wasn’t the must subtle guy around.”

“Well then, nothing's changed.”

“Hey, I’m a little better!”

“I was gonna say a little worse,”

“Hey!”

“Didn’t learn a goddamn thing, even all these years later,” Bucky said with a shake of his head.

“That is not true!”

“Pal, you’re still the same guy I met a century ago,”

“You think so?”

“In all the best ways,” Bucky admits without missing a beat. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Buck,” Steve roughly grabs at Bucky, wrapping him in his arms. He pulled away after a moment, holding him at arm length. “In the ways that matter, you haven’t changed a bit.”

Bucky asks a lot of questions, it’s hard not to. Steve tells Bucky about him, about family members, old friends, school teachers, and everyone in between. Steve fills in blanks for Bucky every day. Even now, though, Bucky still has trouble knowing what to say. Steve says that Bucky used to be the life of the party. Words came easy. And if he tries, he can sometimes remember that. It all comes in parts. He remembers dancing--and when he thinks of dancing, his chest gets all warm and there’s an invisible itch--and he remembers the ghost of happiness at social functions.

He’s better now than he was a year ago. But he’s still lifetimes away from who he was. Steve doesn’t mind, he says he is too.

 

The next hour or two happens in a blur. Steve ushers Bucky into the shower, and blows him another time. Steve claims it’s because of his birthday, but Bucky knows Steve just can’t say no. This time, though, Bucky returns the favor. It still amazes Bucky that through it all, the water never runs cold. Some things are just too strange to become accustomed to. Even after everything he’s experienced.

They dress slowly and meticulously. Steve buttons up the front of Bucky’s shirt, running his hands across his chest pretending to smooth over any lines. Bucky can’t tie a tie anymore. Steve helps him into his vest, and ties his shoelaces. Bucky lets him. He’ll never admit it, but he enjoys the attention. He doesn’t think he ever fully had it before. (Things were different, Steve reminds him. It wasn’t safe then. They were continually cautious.)

Bucky pulls his hair back into a little bun, resting at the nape of his neck. It’s hard to get every strand of hair, and takes several tries. He leaves the stubble.

Steve looked much the same. His suit was also new. His button-up was the perfect shade of his eyes, making them look bigger and brighter. Bucky couldn’t help but kiss him.

The flowers arrived at their apartment door sometime later. They tip the delivery boy, and Steve grabs a cup from the cupboard, fills it with water. Steve makes Bucky stand with his back against the wall, dressed in his new suit, bouquet in his arms, and smile. Steve takes several pictures in a row.

“You look amazing, Buck,”

In the 1930s, everyone said cameras were invented to preserve a snapshot of your life. It was to remember how the family looked at some point in time. Bucky remembers a photo taken of him and his sisters. His ma had borrowed a neighbor's polaroid and had the children gather together on the front porch of their home. He and Steve hadn’t had a camera, there hadn’t been a reason to own one. Even now it felt somehow wasteful.

Shortly after, they’re walking down their building stairs. They walk side by side, steps insync. Outside their apartment building, Steve leads Buck to a car so fancy, so luxurious, there’s only one explanation for it.

“Starks?” Bucky asks, and Steve looks sheepish.

“Maybe,”

“What? Stark hooked us up with a ride?”

“Something like that,”

Together they climbed into the back seat, the driver greeting them kindly. A giddy feeling roots itself in Bucky’s stomach. The car, the outfits, Steve’s hand in his own; it’s just a bit over exciting. Sure the couple were spontaneous, and they went out frequently, but this felt different. Bucky had to tell Steve just that.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve said. “It has to be special.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky waited a moment. “So, where we going?”

“Guess,”

“C’mon, pal,” Bucky adjusts his gaze, attempting a flirty smile. “Just a hint,”

“I thought the outfits were a big enough hint,”

“So, somewhere fancy?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re terrible, Stevie, y’know that? Keep a guy guessing on his own birthday,”

“It ain’t gonna kill ya, Buck,”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky teases along. “Maybe it’s the Winter Soldier’s secret trigger,” Steve looks pained by Bucky’s comment. “Hey, Stevie, I didn’t mean it. It’s just a bad joke,”

“I know,”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“We headin’ for Manhattan?”

“Uh, no,”

“You’re a terrible liar, Steve,”

“I’m not trying to lie!”

“Alright, alright,”

Within the hour their car pulled into the secret, underground, Avenger Tower parking garage. Bucky fixed Steve with a look, but was unable to speak as their driver opened the car doors. Steve slid out, Bucky right behind him.

They didn’t say a word as JARVIS brought the elevator up to a floor Bucky knew he’d never been on. As the elevator doors slid open, a loud, live jazz band met their ears. Bucky couldn’t see the band, but he could hear a nearly perfect impression of Peggy Lee’s “Jersey Bounce”. The lights are dim, though a large, bright ball hangs from the ceiling illuminating the room.

“Capsicle! Heavy Metal! Nice of you to show up,”

“We’re not late,”

“No, true, but even I beat you,”

“What the hell is that?” Steve pointed at the spinning, glittering ball.

“A disco ball,”

“What is it doing here?”

“I thought it added a nice touch!”

“I told you exactly how it needed to look, Tony, and you just-”

“It’s okay, it’s kinda fun,” Bucky cut in, attempting to salvage the night. Sure it felt childish, but Steve was usually provoked, Bucky though. And anyway, would it be an Avenger gathering if Steve and Tony weren’t arguing about something?

“See! Birthday boy loves it!”

“That’s not the point,” Steve grumbled.

“Happy Birthday, James!” Pepper was there in a moment, bless her heart. Tony wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to his side.

“Thank you, Pepper. It looks lovely in here,”

“We hoped it would,” Pepper agreed. “Steve had a great idea. The execution was the easy part.”

“We’ve got a bar, a live band, the dance floor, and of course the disco ball,” Tony said, dramatically sweeping at the room. “Everybody’s here, too.”

“We’ll see you for the cake a little later,” Pepper promises, pulling Tony away. They disappear onto the dance floor.

“What do you think?” Steve’s turned to face Bucky, grasping his hand tightly in his own. Steve looks positively worried, and it makes Bucky giggle.

“Stevie,” Bucky turns to survey the room again. The band’s now performing Billie Holiday, and he can spot the man behind the bar shaking drinks. It looks like something out of a dream, honestly. “It’s great.”

“Yeah, you sure?”

“Positive,” Bucky smiles. “Wanna dance?” Steve smiles back, face full of shy nerves.

“I’ve gotta warn you, though,” Steve says. “I’ve still got two left feet.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bucky snickers. “You were 95 pounds soaking wet, and yet when we danced, I thought for sure you’d broken my toe.”

“Hey!”

“Teaching you to dance was my greatest failure,” Steve just groans, allowing Bucky to pull him out to the middle of the dance floor. Bucky spots Sam and Marie, dancing to the song.

“Think you can follow my lead?” Bucky asks, a hint of teasing laced in his voice.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Immediately, it was obvious that Steve hadn’t improved. Bucky remembered the steps easily, the tempo of the song perfect. It was an upbeat dance, and the foot work was fast. Nearly every other beat had Steve fumbling. First, he kicked Bucky’s shin, and as he finished apologizing, he was stomping down on Bucky’s foot. His eyebrows were furrowed, a look of concentration set against his features. The ridiculousness of it had Bucky breaking out into a fit of laughter. He couldn’t stop, instead leaning against Steve. Steve joined in, the pair leaning against one another on the dance floor, laughing loudly.

“Steve, you are terrible!”

“I’m sorry, I am!”

Bucky burst into another fit of giggles. “I think you’ve gotten worse,”

 

 

The night really was perfect. He couldn’t remember many of his past birthdays. Last year had been quiet and simple, and he begged Steve not to make a big deal. Growing up, he knew his parents had tried their best to make a special day; back when the age really meant something. He’d meant what he said to their waiter, it didn’t matter to keep track anymore. So many years had come and gone. He wasn’t in a rush anymore.

 

At one point he’d started dancing with Natasha. They were a good match. Somehow she knew the steps to every dance Bucky started. He set the pace, and she followed. Her hair was curled, framing her face. Her black dress hugged her hips, swaying at her thighs as they moved. And she was smiling. She looked happy, which meant the most to Bucky.

The pair spent several dances together. Neither spoke a word. Occasionally Bucky sang along to the songs he knew. Natasha kept up with him, and when they finally broke away they were giggling.

“Thank god for you,” Bucky told her. “Steve couldn’t dance to save his life.”

“It was my pleasure,” Natasha smiled easily.

“Want a drink?”

“I usually do,”

 

At the bar, Tony showed Bucky the screen of his phone.

“Look, you’re trending on twitter,” Tony instructed.

“I’m what?”

“Oh god, I hoped you were better than Cap! Twitter?! You don’t know twitter?!”

“No,”

“It’s just a website,” Bruce told him helpfully. “It’s a website where billions of people share their thoughts.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“If enough people mention you, then you trend. Which means you’re a popular topic worldwide.”

“What are people saying?!”

“ _Happy 100th Sergeant James Barnes_ ,” Tony read. “ _Hope you have a wonderful day, hashtag happy 100th Bucky_. Oh this is a good one, _hashtag Steve and Bucky birthday sex, hashtag happy 100th Bucky_.”

“What the-?”

“Leave him alone, Tony,” Natasha chastised. “Birthday boys blushing.”

“I am not!” Bucky insisted. “I’ve got nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“Atta boy,” Tony teased.

 

Clint taught Bucky a game called beer pong. They played several rounds before he tapped out, insisting he couldn’t drink another glass without vomiting.

 

After another three songs with Natasha, Steve pulled Bucky away, insisting it was time for cake. Everyone was gathered around a table, and Steve brought Bucky to the head of it. Sitting in front of him was a large, three layer cake. On top, sat a design Bucky had never seen before. It was a large circle, one half of Captain America’s shield, the other half a circular depiction of his metal arm. There were three candles placed atop, as well; a one, and two zeroes.

“Now, I have to explain,” Sam cut in. “I was put on cake duty. I asked around for some advice, and next thing I knew, Darcy had placed an order for this thing.”

“It’s beautiful, huh?” Darcy hadn’t necessarily been invited, but it was hard to keep her away when both Thor and Jane were invited. It wasn’t that nobody wanted her there, but that she insisted on coming.

“It’s something,” Bucky agreed. “Thanks everyone,”

Pepper lit the three candles and the group broke into an off tune chorus of Happy Birthday. Truthfully, it sounded horrible. Yet, it still made Bucky break into a grin he couldn’t wipe off.

“Make a wish!”

As Bucky blew out the three candles, only one wish came to mind. Bucky hadn’t ever been superstitious, or religious. Being here in this century, though, felt like a miracle. Having Steve plastered to his side, and a team of people he trusted (that he cared about) was enough. Being surrounded by this rag-tag group of people was a crazy turn of events. One he wouldn’t trade for anything.

Once the candles were out, Bucky turned to kiss Steve. He couldn’t wish for anything better.


End file.
